


The poison is in the dose

by Sacirin



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: :they are slutier, First Kiss, First Time, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Other, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 13:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sacirin/pseuds/Sacirin
Summary: “What’s the matter?” said Crowley.“Nothing, I was just remembering your longer hair.”**Long hair to grab glorious fistfuls of in the heat of a kiss.**





	The poison is in the dose

**Author's Note:**

> [This post (by reidluver on Tumblr)](https://reidluver.tumblr.com/post/185884779566/it-wasnt-until-i-saw-this-post-which-showed-the) made me do it, because I personally think that Crowley's original long hair was super sexy.
> 
> I love the asexual reading, and I know that angels are sexless (unless they make an effort), but please, just let me have this.

“Hey, angel.”

Crowley stroked his hand suggestively over the back of Aziraphale’s shoulders, unable to hide the audible pleased smirk. Aziraphale perked up subtly and closed the book he had been reading. It would have to be put aside for a while. The demon stepped around him without hurry, circling him like one would a dance partner. He gently sunk his knees in the cushion of Aziraphale's sofa and sat himself astride on his lap. The angel answered with a warm smile of his own and Crowley leaned down to give him a kiss. Aziraphale took off his reading glasses and put them aside too. Crowley didn’t wear his sunglasses at home most of the time, so his golden eyes gazed lovingly at his adorable partner.

This was just the ignition, the takeoff, the appetizer of a long lovemaking session. He just wished Crowley would have said something in advance, because that book was getting interesting.

“Why do you still call me ‘angel’?” Aziraphale circled Crowley’s waist with his arms and pulled him closer.

“Because you still are, aren’t you?” Their noses were touching, and Crowley’s hands moved up from his shoulders to tangle in pale white curls. “Because you’re the _best_ angel, you’re _my_ angel, _angel_.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale took it as an invitation and kissed his lips again, this time already parted. “My lovey demon.”

He lifted one of his hands to cup his cheek, and they were kissing again, slow and unhurried. On the lips, on the cheek, on the forehead. Hands finding their way blind, caressing with more care than tease. There in each other’s arms, shielded from the world, feeling so loved, free to be affectionate and kind - they could spend eternity like this. Aziraphale got distracted stroking Crowley’s hair. He took strands between his fingers and looked confused at the ends as they slipped away quickly.

“What’s the matter?” said Crowley.

“Nothing, I was just remembering your longer hair.” _**Long hair to grab glorious fistfuls of in the heat of a kiss.**_

“Would you rather I grew it out again?”

“Oh, no no, I didn’t mean that. It’s perfect just the way it is.” he smiled and raked his hair, pushing it back from his forehead and drawing a satisfied noise from Crowley.

His lips were back on Aziraphale in an instant, now eager and hungry. They went down, under the jaw, over the neck, behind the ear. He pressed his open mouth, hot and wet, to all the skin he could find, making him whimper softly. Crowley lifted his head and half lidded yellow eyes stared up at him, lustful, temptatious, demonic. _**A serpent’s eyes enticing him to bite into the red apple of his mouth.**_ “Aziraphale...” he whispered almost like a plea. And Aziraphale couldn’t resist. He took Crowley’s face in his hands and kissed him with purpose. Crowley loved when Aziraphale took control, and Aziraphale loved it just as much. When he deepened the kiss and introduced his tongue inside his mouth, Crowley _whined_. Who would have bet that Crowley could whine? Aziraphale, Aziraphale would.

And this went on for some time, mouths meshing together and hands roaming restlessly.  
This is how it usually happened, their lovemaking. No need to do anything else that evening, only celebrating their love in the most intimate and human way. They rather enjoyed more the cuddles and kisses, but they were willing to use their human forms to their full potential. Having already fallen for so many earthly pleasures, why not try sex too? Nevertheless, it wasn’t a very common occurrence in their lives, and that was perfectly fine. Only when the mood was right, like today. Their sex was slow as the sun moving across the sky, and could be drawn out for full hours. When you live for eternity and you already have everything you need, you sort of become allergic to hurries. Being technically asexual creatures, and not actually human, they could turn their sex hardware on and off like a switch to match their desire, carefully composing a harmonious duet. Mortals seem to be always in a rush to cross the finish line, but these two have all the time in the universe to revel in what humans call ‘foreplay’.

Another thing that differentiated them from humans was that they use to get bored of one another pretty easily. Aziraphale and Crowley had been friends for over six thousand years, and were not the least bit tired of each other. If only, this new chapter of their relationship presented loads of more things to discover and experience together. Like a kid reading their favourite adventure book again and again. That you know what treasure is buried under the X, doesn’t mean that the journey is less enjoyable. Warm hands explored every surface of their bodies with great interest, even if they had already been precisely mapped. Kissing passionately was pretty fun when you don’t actually need to breathe. _**Hot bodies coming together.**_

Aziraphale’s cheeks had turned pink, and Crowley’s were fiercely competing with his hair. Their mouths were parting from time to time just to refrigerate their brains, or else they could pass out. The angel had his hands firmly on Crowley’s hips, drifting over to glutes and thighs. Crowley began to undo his shirt’s buttons and- how could Aziraphale snog him like that with a bowtie on? He kissed every bit of skin that was being revealed. It was nice to do things the human way sometimes, just for the teasing. Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s shirt from his trousers, got a hand underneath it, and did something that always managed to light Crowley’s body up in flames. He moved his hand in one long stroke up his back, pressing his fingers over the line of his spine. Crowley’s back did something weird and he moaned. Aziraphale’s waistcoat had disappeared and his shirt was open through the middle, he crumpled up Crowley’s clothes even more as he struggled to get him out of them.  
_**Black robes easy to lift and undo to reveal taut flesh.**_

Their lustful adventures could go on for several hours. When they got out their wings, time almost seemed to stop. Still, not as long as that rather impressive first time, that Aziraphale was secretly proud of. _‘Let me tempt you, angel.’_ No. That actually wasn’t their first time _(dull, mortal label)_ , the first time that they could have been found in amorous embrace.

* * *

They had somehow decided to forget, but the first four thousand years of their friendship on Earth had been the longest ones, metaphorically speaking. During that period of drought there were at least five encounters that had lead to them committing carnal sin.

Ever since their first meeting on top of the wall of the Garden, back in 4004 BC, the demon had catched his eye. The black wings and snake eyes said he was an occult creature, the enemy, but his hair said angel. Auburn like the leaves of a japanese maple, red like the sky at sunset. Organised in almost perfect, long ringlets, flowing over the shoulders, worthy of celestial beauty. One of the few things that he clung onto after the Fall. Aziraphale never said it, but he had felt the urge to touch them, just to see if they were as soft as they looked. 

_/The first time was in 4967 BC./_  
Crowley approached him. It was always him who found Aziraphale, he had no idea how he did it. But this was completely unprecedented. He was the enemy, the opposite, and he should have no reason at all to fraternize with him, or even talk, for God’s sake. Liar, wily, cunning, the Evil itself. Yet somehow, nice too?

_/The next one in 3793 bc./_  
But Crowley found him, wherever he was, and started talking to him like it was nothing. First about the weather, or the latest historical event. Then he got closer, and started talking in a more private tone, and the conversation drifted into dangerous territory. Of how he surely would be bored of the ineffable plan by now, all this time on Earth seeing humans have fun, hadn’t he indulged even a little, wasn’t he interested? Well, no, he shouldn’t be. He was an angel of God, an ethereal creature who didn’t need anything to survive on, certainly not to have fun. He was just there, supervising the world. Not curious, not at all. So he kept listening.

_‘Please, angel, allow me to have a taste of you, allow me to show you the pleasures you are missing, allow me to have you, body and soul.’_ Those serpent eyes should have been a warning not to trust him. They even seemed to glow when he got closer still. Slitted pupils in the middle of inhuman yellow eyeballs. He didn’t care if he terrorised the population, he was proud of them. Actually, Aziraphale liked them. Something different from all the humans’ and the angels’, and even demons’ too, so unique.

Silvant whispers sounding in his ears like this, singing songs from Hell (or Heaven) about all the things they would do. _‘Let me and I’ll touch you in ways you have never been touched before, I’ll make you feel things you’ve never felt before.’_ All the things Crowley would do to him. _‘Aren’t you at least a bit curious?’_ A proper temptation. If he managed to tempt an angel, he would have been promoted in Hell and given a trophy. That was his sole objective, to corrupt an incorruptible soul, to put a black stain on the white wings of the enemy. Well, Hell had chosen its prey correctly, Aziraphale was a weak angel. He didn’t have his flaming sword anymore, or knew how to use it for that matter, and would certainly lose in a fight. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to stand up to the demon and keep his honour. If you can’t beat them, join them. He was already falling for the temptation, but he could stay stoic and be a be a worthy opponent.

_‘Humans do it all the time with little objection, it mustn’t be hard to sin in these bodies. We’ll hide, if that’s what you want.’_ Crowley led them to his secret hut, wherever he stayed at the time, somewhere dim and quiet, away from prying eyes. Surely, humans did this all the time, take each other by the hand and go hide somewhere to furtively fornicate. It was more common back then when society’s morals were more lax. Married couples too, but mostly adulterers, and not only pairs of man and woman, and the number of participants wasn’t limited to two all the time. Aziraphale shook his head, what nasty thoughts. It wasn’t natural for angels, they should be absolutely abhorred by the mere thought of using their bodies in intimate ways. Yet humans didn’t think twice before leaping to enjoy the gifts they had been born with. There must be something about it, right?

Crowley sat on some bench and pulled him onto his lap. Legs spread apart and folded in half on either side of Crowley’s thighs, firm, possessive hands on his hips. He felt vulnerable in some ways, but strangely interested in others. _‘Let me touch you, let me see you, let me feel your body and devour it.’_ Aziraphale had to lean slightly on his shoulders, but kept his back straight, and his face too. Ready to see what the demon had prepared for him.

Crowley put his hands around his head, twining his fingers in blond curls, surely burning them or turning them black or doing some other bad thing to them. He pulled Aziraphale’s face close enough that their noses brushed and he could feel hot breath on his lips. _‘Let me kiss you, just once, let me kiss your lips, and you will fall the rest of the way by yourself.’_ The angel’s first kiss. Crowley showed him how to kiss, showed him the delights of the contact of one mouth and another. Past the collision of lips, breaching the barriers, and kissing with fervor. Curiosity, mouths collapsed into a single house of two tongues, mingling, wet, hot, heady. Aziraphale had to keep his eyes closed for fear of getting dizzy, and let Crowley lead the dance, as he had apparently stolen his voice too.

_‘Let’s forget the world, let’s forget our duties, let’s forget our sides, let’s forget eternity.’_ Crowley pulled down his collar and kissed with devotion down his neck and over his chest. That made Aziraphale blush hard, and that’s when he realized that he blushed very easily. Aziraphale tried to cool down and not think about how those kisses sounded like pearly droplets of sound from Heaven. And not even a single time did he think about kissing Crowley’s body like that, or did it either.

_/Then in 2541 BC./_  
Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and placed it over his chest, to let him feel the heat, and heartbeat, and raw desire. The hand moved slowly downwards, with a pair of blue eyes fixed on them, tilting and narrowing, almost looking with mischief. The one time he had felt extremely bold and had taken Crowley’s hand and did the same over his own chest, Crowley had bared his teeth, his sharp canines, and kissed him with possessive hunger.

_/Then in 1601 BC./_  
Crowley unsuccessfully tried to get him out of his clothes, and urged him to do the same, but they were never fully naked. No matter how brave and bold Aziraphale thought was, there were moments where he was as shy as a young virgin on her wedding night. The first time that his hand moved on its own like a rebellious child and pushed up the hem of Crowley’s skirt, the first time he touched that thigh “Oh, Lord.” he looked away and rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “Don’t invoke that one right now.” and he was already parting the layers of his white tunic. _‘Take off my clothes and I’ll take off yours. Oh, angel, let’s commit sins of the flesh, let’s drive ourselves into a lustful frenzy.’_

Crowley dipped his hands under his thighs to pull their bodies flush. Lewd, inappropriate, sinful and… arousing, satisfactory, enjoyable. Grinding their groins, bodies pushed up against each other, moving in a chaotic rhythm, burning in hellfire. Crowley was making the weirdest noises in his ear, soft whines and deep grunts, and Aziraphale was surprised to find that he was making some too. And there he was, an angel rutting up against a demon like an animal, and enjoying it like one.  
_‘Take this fallen angel and breathe life back into me, put your hands on my body, put your lips on mine. I’ll tempt you and you’ll bless me. I’ll corrupt you and you’ll make me holy.’_ Having an angel, more of a reward for a demon even than tempting one.  
_‘Please, my angel.’_   
And he let him.

He was convinced he was going to Fall for this, be Damned by God herself right on the spot, struck with lightning, burnt and sent to rot away in Hell for eternity. And he was ready to face the consequences of his actions. But nothing happened. Nothing bad or nothing good. They went over a small bump of pleasure, each on their own time, and then, only numbness. A sort of buzzing in his head, like TV static in his veins. Calm, only a small reminiscence of their making in the beginning of everything. They promptly disentangled and didn’t talk about it again.

He didn’t know if Heaven or God knew about this offense, but as he wasn’t punished… he did it again. Every time that Crowley used his wiles on him and tempted him, he accepted. He got better at it, and even… enjoyed it a bit. They had sex only four times during those first four thousand years, all in similar fashion. And with roughly a millenia between each of them. He tried to justify himself by thinking that if they were so isolated over such a long time span, the overall offence would be reduced. The same way that diluting a drop of poison into a cauldron of water turns it into a medicine.

But the fifth time… That time wasn’t like the rest. The year was 33 AD, the son of God had been born and preached, and died, and more people were starting to preach. And Crowley had started acting weird, more anxious, trying to tide, even gloomy sometimes. He had been there at the Crucifixion too. Maybe he was going to be prosecuted by people now. Or he feared that this was the end of an era, that Heaven and Hell would strengthen their rules, that he would no longer be able to talk to Aziraphale again.

One day Crowley found him and took him somewhere discreet. He started reciting his temptation monologue, but it was different than the others. More of a desperate plea, a call for help, a last resort. Even his eyes looked sad. He crowded Aziraphale against the first wall he saw and started kissing him. His hood was making a small cocoon, separating them from the rest of the world. Aziraphale cupped his face gently with his hands, and Crowley pulled away immediately.

He sat down on a chair as usual, and Aziraphale eased himself down onto his lap. Soon enough they were kissing. Crowley nibbled at his lips, rubbed his fingers over his scalp, fisted blond curls, and sighed into his mouth. “Aziraphale.” A hand was crawling under the angel’s clothes and up his back. “I need you, I need to have you.” Aziraphale wasn’t going to say it outloud, but he made his disposition clear by dipping to kiss Crowley’s neck. He stuck out his tongue, just to have a taste. Dragged it slowly over the skin.

And then Crowley lost it. All restraint and composure, threw them away. He got a hold of Aziraphale and sank to his knees, both of them falling on the floor. This way Crowley was on top and quickly straddled his hips. Aziraphale had to throw a hand backwards to support himself and stay upright. Crowley grabbed his face and kissed him madly, uttering tiny high-pitched sounds.

“Please, take me, angel.”

“Oh, Crowley.”

The demon hastily tired to undo his own robes, but he was shaking too much to properly pull apart the fabric, so it ended up bunched up around his chest. He continued forward, nonetheless. Aziraphale helped by pulling up his tunic, and let Crowley’s hand slip up through the big bottom opening, slide over his chest and feel his angelic heart beating underneath. Without further ado and consumed by desire, Crowley started moving against him with a frantic rhythm. His hands looked for purchase everywhere. Aziraphale obliged and pushed back up, trying to meet Crowley’s thrusts. The demon’s skin had gone scarlet, and he was panting like a wolf. He whimpered and moaned like a hurt animal. His snake eyes danced all over him, almost closed, brows furrowed with worry. They were sad and aching with something unspoken, but Aziraphale was too afraid to ask.

Crowley rode his lap with desperation in search for something, something more than sexual relief. Something he could touch, but still couldn’t feel. He sounded like he was in pain, and Aziraphale didn’t know what to do to comfort him. He ran his hands up Crowley’s thighs, slowly, teasingly, then around his hips. He raised his upper body up a bit more to be closer to him. And Crowley finally reached his climax, screaming like he was dying, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut. “ _Aziraphale._ ” It was probably the first time he had actually orgasmed, like humans usually do. Aziraphale was a little relieved, and more surprised than scared. He followed soon after, but his climax was more mild, more like the sound you make when you finally get in bed after a long day.

After Crowley came back from his trip to the stars, he stayed mounted on top of the angel’s lap. He stopped panting immediately when he remembered that he didn’t need to. They didn’t disentangle, they stayed there a moment, hands timid on each other. Their foreheads had come to rest together. Aziraphale pushed some long locks back over his shoulder, and placed a hand lightly over the tattoo on the side of his face. In that pregnant moment, their lips somehow found their way to each other again. Then Aziraphale pushed his fingers into Crowley’s blood-red hair with tenderness and- ...love. And Crowley pulled back like it burned, eyes wide and face contorted in anguish. He scrambled to get up, gathered his robes and wrapped them around himself, and quickly run away.

“Crowley, wait!” the demon was out of the door already.

Aziraphale was left on the floor, clothes a mess, very confused, and… _cold_. He was feeling something that his body didn’t have to feel. It was because he had been left in this ramshackle room by a rude enemy. Because his soul had been abandoned on the bed by his lover.

So Aziraphale decided it was time for a change. He was done waiting for Crowley. He had to admit that he missed his temptations, maybe because they let him break free from Heaven’s rules. He had seen that he didn’t have to follow all those rules strictly. He could relax his relationship with Heaven, who didn’t really listen anyway, and enjoy human pleasures and life on Earth. And it was for the best. How could he have been missing all the food! He learned to love himself, his unfit body, his anxious personality. He learned to smile too. He moved to Rome and he liked the place very much. By this time he also started being very fond of books, or in this case scrolls. He made a place for himself in the world, a small corner of good food, coziness, books, tartan, kindness and sunshine, all that he is to this day.

There, in a roman tavern in 41 AD, he met Crowley again. He almost didn’t recognise him in passing, he thought he rather felt his presence in some way. He was slouching on his chair with a cup of wine in his hand. He seemed to have coiled in, he didn’t stand tall and proud like he used to. He still wore all black and a big hood, more sophisticated and aristocratic, but it didn’t fit as nicely as his plain gray garments. For the first time, Aziraphale couldn’t see his eyes, concealed behind small, round, black spectacles. And his hair. Crowley’s gorgeous hair had been cut very short and now he blended in with the rest of the people. Still, he could tell he had put good effort in it, perfectly circular curls on his forehead and temples, and adorned with a silver laurel wreath. But, to be honest, even if he had changed on the outside, to Aziraphale he was still beautiful.

It was what was going on on the inside that worried him. Those eight years had also changed Crowley. He was more pushed aside, like he didn’t belong and everyone rejected him, hated him, even feared him. He had little interest in messing with humans or having some fun, or even talking to Aziraphale. He would say he was depressed, if occult creatures could have depression. His face only read apathy and boredom. Aziraphale knew that feeling: he wanted go back to Hell. Disillusioned with this world, completely alone in the middle of the crowd.

He went to talk to him, maybe an old friend could cheer him up, give him a reason to stay. He remembered embarrassing himself by trying to tempt the demon, who looked at him and smiled, like he was such a failure of an angel, such an interesting failure. But after that they went on a dinner date and the rest is history, so, temptation accomplished.

* * *

Thankfully, now everything was better. They must be truly a pair of morons, because it took them six thousand years to figure their thing out, to speak the unspoken and feel the unreachable. Things had significantly moved faster in this last two millennia.

They had eventually rediscovered the pleasures of physical affection. After the Notpocalypse they didn’t feel so tied to their head officers, and did no longer have to hide their love for each other. And that was years ago, they had had time to let everything flow slowly, like gutter water finding its way between the cobblestones.

All ethereal and occult creatures were spawned with all their features, abilities and purposes preinstalled, but when it comes to human affairs, practice is the key. They’ve had enough time to learn about each other and these bodies they inhabit. It was no longer something clandestine, it was a celebration. It no longer felt wrong, it felt comforting. It was no longer just lust, it was love. Their souls danced in another dimension to the melody of whispers, kisses and giggles, while their bodies had fun and smooched. They dissolved into one one another, like hot and cold eventually become both lukewarm. Like a sunset or fireworks setting the blue sky on fire. Like downing the colourful contents of a funny-looking bottle, and finding out it’s not poison, but sweet and tasty. When they were with each other, they felt a sort of peace, that neither creation, or Heaven, or Eden could compare to. There wasn’t numbness anymore, just celestial bliss.


End file.
